Harley tried to drink her coffee black like all the people she'd decided were more important than her.
But after two sips, she gave in and dumped her customary 1/4th cup of sugar and half carton of cream into the steaming liquid, just trying to make it bearable. Out of all the caffeine delivery methods, coffee was by far her least favorite, but Hollywood sets thrived on it, so to fit in, she thought she should too.
She was halfway done with her first cup when Jared emerged from his trailer. Harley was star struck meeting just about everyone who got to stand in front of the camera, but for some reason, Jared sorta creeped her out.
Maybe it was because he was a method actor or whatever and insisted on staying in character 24/7. Maybe she would like the real Jared a lot better. Or…maybe he was just a creep. His eyes were definitely too close together, that was for sure. Harley didn't know what they had to do with his creepiness, but—anyway, she was getting off track.
"Morning," Harley greeted, a pleasant as ever. "Ready to run through your blocking?"
"My blocking…" he got that weird gleam in his eye and sort of…slithered forward. "Are you sweet talkin' me?"
Harley blinked. "What?"
"Ha ha ha…"
God, I can't believe Selina hasn't made him work on that. "So…is that a yes?"
He clapped in her face. "Anything for you, dollface. The fire in my loins, the itch in my crotch, the one, the only, the infamous Harley Quinn!"
"Uh…no, it's Quinzel. Harley QuinZEL. You forgot the zel."
"No, it's like—," he faltered in his act just a bit. "Nevermind! If you have to explain the joke, it's not funny!" Then he halfway stormed, halfway skipped off to the soundstage.
So no blocking then. Cool.
"Hey."
Harley nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand landed on her shoulder.
Pamela looked apologetic at first, but then realization seemed to dawn on her. "Oh, were you just talking to Jared?"
"Yeah, I—I'm sorry, he just—,"
"He's creepy, yes." Pam confirmed what Harley had been unable to say out loud. "And we all hate him, don't worry."
Well shit…now Harley felt a little bad…
"No, Harley," Pam laughed, and this conversation was beginning to creep Harley out too because it was like Pam was reading her thoughts. "I'm not just being an asshole, he sexually harassed one of the extras in that strip club scene two months back."
Harley's eyes grew impossibly wider. "He did what?"
"Yeah…" Pam confirmed with a slow nod of her head, like she couldn't figure out why this was taking Harley so long to put together. "Woodrue wouldn't let Selina fire him, but he's a creep and also just generally the worst."
That was the term Harley had been searching for. The worst! "God, he really is!"
Pam laughed again, that warm, smooth laugh that weirdly made Harley feel, like…confident? And…included? In what, she wasn't sure, but she was almost positive a movie star wanted to be her friend and that was the best feeling in the world.
"I got a new shirt for tonight!" Harley suddenly found herself blurting out. "I hope it's nice enough."
"Fun." Pam giggled like she'd made a joke.
Harley hadn't, but she was always happy to make Pam laugh. She got the impression that she didn't laugh for a lot of people. On set she seemed so…prickly. The alpha dog. In command. That's why Harley thought it was so weird that Pam and Selina were actually such good friends. Watching them on set, you would never guess it. They were so similar and vain and…loud.
Well, ok, Selina was loud, and a little vain. Pam was vain and a little loud. But—
"Harley?" Pam was asking, watching her expectantly.
The blonde stared dumbly for a moment, trying to bring herself back down to earth. "Huh?"
Pam laughed again, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Coffee must not have kicked in yet, huh?" she sounded sympathetic. "I asked if you'd eaten already."
"Oh, uh…No. You?" Way to go, loser.
"Are you…hungry?" the redhead ventured.
Harley just nodded. "Are you?"
Pam held up the green smoothie in her hand. "I'm covered, but I thought maybe we could sit down and you could talk me through my blocking again. Over…breakfast, maybe. Well, your breakfast, again, I'm—,"
"Covered. Smoothie. Right." Harley grinned. "Yeah, sure. Cafeteria work?"
It wasn't really a cafeteria, more a tent with some tables and chairs and catered snacks, but Harley sometimes forgot she wasn't still in high school, so she called it a cafeteria.
Pam led the way, opening the flap door of the tent and holding it for Harley who ducked inside.
It always cracked Harley up how many carbs the catering company provided, even though no one on set ate them. Except for Harley and her stunt team. And some of the crew, she guessed. But anyway, she snatched a bagel and a yogurt and a croissant and was just turning around to make what would probably be a stupid joke to Pam when she heard—
"Isley!"
Bruce Wayne had shouted at her from a table across the room, and from the expression on Pam's face, Harley was pretty sure he'd be a pile of smoking ash by the time she made it over there.
He flinched, but still said, "Run lines with me."
"No."
"Run lines with me…Honey."
Pam's green eyes narrowed to angry slits, but like she'd been possessed, when she turned to Harley, her expression was as upbeat as it'd been before they'd entered the tent. "I'm so sorry, I'll have to take a raincheck on breakfast. A vital portion of an actress' job is elevating the performances of her costars."
"Oh, right, of course," Harley tried not to sound disappointed. "Raincheck. I'll still see you tonight, anyway."
"Right." There looked to be something approaching relief in Pam's smile. "Tonight." Then she left Harley behind for Bruce, aggressively yanking the empty chair away from his table and turning it around to sit on it backwards.
Harley took her food and sat next to her stunt team, who had been watching the exchange with great interest.
"I can't believe she's that into you," Roxy said, immediately confusing Harley.
"Who?"
"Jessica Rabbit, dumbass." Mary answered like it was a stupid question.
"W—you mean—you mean Pam?" Harley almost laughed. "Into who?"
"You!" Mary sounded legitimately angry this time.
"Oh, don't be so cranky," Roxy pinched her cheeks. "Just drink your bottle, baby. If you made a stinky I'll change if after you eat your breakfast like a big girl."
"I'm a dwarf, not an infant, you asshole," Mary spat. "And the next stupid joke you make is gonna get you fired. HR already knows you're heightist."
Harley frowned, even though this really wasn't any of her business. "Is that a thing?"
"Yes it is, Harleen, you simple-minded giant."
"Anyway…" Roxy had evidently deemed ignoring Mary altogether the best way to avoid getting reported. "Pam Isley wants to fuck you, Harl."
Harley guffawed. "Pam Isley is a movie star."
"OK…" Roxy tried again. "Pam Isley, movie star, wants to fuck you. Better?"
"She does not."
"She does," Waylon agreed with Roxy as he lumbered in, his arms nearly overflowing with food. Mary immediately sprung up from her chair, offering it to him, but he just chuckled. "No, no, little lady, you've got a big scene today. Waylon can stand."
Harley still didn't totally know why he occasionally spoke in the third person, but ah well. Mary was blushing but Harley didn't have time to put two and two together because they all needed to get back to her thing, as it was clearly far more pressing.
"The only person Pam Isley's interested in sleeping with is her boyfriend Bruce Wayne." She nodded over towards the table the couple was sitting at.
Roxy literally laughed out loud. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're my boss."
Alright, so now Harley was starting to feel a bit offended.
"Harleen…" Roxy sat forward and took her hand. "Harleen, my sweet, naïve, buff, bisexual barbie doll. Pam Isley likes pussy as much as Ellen Degeneres does, and together, I can guarantee you they've seen a combined ZERO dicks."
Obviously, Roxy's balcony jump stunt yesterday had knocked a screw loose in her head. "You're crazy," Harley told her. "Look at her, Roxy. Does she look like a lesbian to you?"
The whole table looked…to see Pam subtly rocking back and forth on the chair she was still sitting backwards on.
"…yeah." They all agreed.
"Harleen," Mary took over. "Straight women don't sit like that."
"OK, whatever." Harley was ready to change the subject. "Are you guys going to the wrap party tonight?"
Roxy took a sip of her orange juice. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Tonight, the wr—you know what? Forget it." Harley stood, pushing herself away from the table rather dramatically. "I hope you're ready today, Mary. Selina only wants to do three takes."
"Now who's cranky…" Mary tried to inconspicuously jerk her head in Harley's direction.
….
It wasn't inconspicuous.
"You guys are on thin ice."
"Wait." Waylon was clearly confused. "Who does Harley think is not a lesbian?"
Mary jerked her head even less inconspicuously in Pamela's direction.
"No…Harley, yes she is." Waylon's delivery was so earnest it caught Harley a little off-guard. "And Bruce Wayne is not her boyfriend, he's sleeping with the director. But the redhead—I used to be a bouncer at Riddle Me This—,"
"A gay bar," Roxy clarified.
Waylon nodded. "And she was there every night."
Roxy raised a dark eyebrow. "Every night?"
"Every—,"
"OK! OK!" At this point, Harley just wanted this nonsense to stop. "So maybe she's gay. Newsflash, that doesn't mean she's into me."
"…Harley…"
"Oh my god go to work!"
..."Wait, Bruce Wayne is sleeping with who?"